


Boiling Point

by spicytofuuuu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - New Girl Fusion, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Breeding kink if you squint, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspired by New Girl (TV 2011), Minimal plotting involved, there is only one AC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicytofuuuu/pseuds/spicytofuuuu
Summary: When that smarmy weatherman reported that they were about to experience a two-week heat wave, Ben should’ve taken it seriously and gotten himself a portable air conditioning unit for his room. He just didn’t think it would get this hot. The joke’s on him, though, because he’s currently stuck in Satan’s armpit since every single air conditioning unit’s sold out within an 80 mile radius. And he’s stuck at home with Rey.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 39
Kudos: 393
Collections: Who's that ship? It's Reylo!





	Boiling Point

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by New Girl's Heat Wave episode (5x09).
> 
> Thanks to the sweetest and incomparable Rose for the beta! Any mistakes you see here are mine because I continued tinkering with it after.
> 
> Please let me know if I'm missing any tags!

Ben Solo is a man of few regrets. Right at this very moment, he decides that there are a number of things he should have done differently:

  * When his roommates Poe and Finn said that they had a friend who just got a job teaching physical education at a nearby school, who could move into the vacant fourth bedroom in their apartment right away, he _should’ve_ asked for more details instead of just agreeing blindly and waving them away.



  * When said new roommate showed up, he could’ve told her that this arrangement wouldn’t work. He was expecting a gym rat named Ray, not this gorgeous woman ( _Rey with an E,_ she’d introduced herself) who looked like she’d walked straight out of his wet dream and into their living room. Well, he probably shouldn’t tell her that last part regardless, but he could’ve made an excuse. _Any_ excuse. Perhaps that the apartment was for men only. Or that they’d decided to turn the fourth bedroom into a gym. Or a home office. Or, hell, a craft room. He could’ve. He should’ve. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d babbled incoherently and pointed her to her room, which coincidentally was the one right across from his.



  * When that smarmy weatherman Snap Wexley reported that they were about to experience a two-week heat wave, he should’ve taken it seriously and gotten himself a portable air conditioning unit for his room. He had no reason not to buy one—he had extra money from the advance for his next book so it wasn’t like he was strapped for cash. And considering he worked from home and refused to write in public spaces, he _really_ should have bought one. He just didn’t think it would get this hot. The joke’s on him, though, because he’s currently stuck in Satan’s armpit since every single air conditioning unit’s sold out within an 80 mile radius. And he’s stuck at home with just Rey, because school’s out for the summer and she has nothing better to do than to hang around in the apartment.



The heat is turning him into a certified human disaster. It was easier to handle his burgeoning attraction during the colder months. At least then, he could pretend that she was covered in boils under the thick sweaters. Not that it really helps much. Or at all, if he’s being honest. He still finds her obscenely attractive. It doesn’t make him jerk off to her any less. (He tries not to think too hard about what that says about him.)

It truly doesn’t help that the record-breaking temperatures introduces him to Rey’s bare shoulders. And her slender legs. And her toned arms. And all the crop tops, sports bras, and daisy dukes that she prefers to wear around the apartment. And all the popsicles that she sucks on like a lifeline. Lips pink and plump as she wraps her mouth around each one, tongue licking off every last drop.

Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose. Because the way she consumes those popsicles isn’t the most conventional way. Because she throws him coquettish smiles when she catches him staring. Sometimes.

Maybe she’s sending him signals. Or maybe she revels in making him squirm uncomfortably. Or maybe she really likes popsicles and maybe her teeth are really sensitive, and _that’s_ why she gives them those little kitten licks or just flat out, for lack of a better term, deepthroats them.

Ben doesn’t want to act on _maybes_ and end up losing a great roommate in the process. It’s not easy to find someone reliable and sane to live with.

He considers phoning his parents and telling them that he’s going to stay at their place for the next couple of weeks to ride out the heat wave in their well-appointed bungalow with the central AC, but the thought of having to spend more than two days with them is giving him heart palpitations.

Instead, he goes for the next best solution: Avoiding her at all costs.

Ben holes himself up in his bedroom and only comes out whenever he’s sure Poe or Finn are around, or when he has to refill his giant four-quart water pitcher, or when he has to go to the bathroom.

He presses his ears against the door, trying to detect any movement beyond the confines of his bedroom. Poe and Finn have already left for work, and Rey seems to have left to do whatever random errand that strikes her fancy. Tentatively, he steps out into the living room, where it’s not that much cooler than his room, but it’s still a significant upgrade.

Ben warily inspects the clutter around the coffee table. A half-eaten bag of chips sits right next to a can of room-temperature diet soda. Rey must have left the apartment before she finished her snacks, which raises a big red flag. She _never_ wastes food, something she’s made crystal clear on multiple occasions.

He’s too preoccupied, too concerned with trying to figure out what on earth could have happened to make her leave, that he doesn’t even hear her enter the apartment.

“Hey, Ben!”

Startled is one way to describe him, but stunned is more precise. Because there she stands, wearing just a thin tank top and sinfully short shorts, sweat rolling down from her forehead down to her neck and disappearing into her cleavage.

Ben gulps and attempts a casual two-finger wave, which he’s sure comes across more pathetic than intended.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, you’ve been busy, huh?”

He just nods wordlessly.

“So, Mrs. Kanata down the hall has this extra portable AC that she said I could borrow—”

Ben sees her lips moving, but he’s too lost in his own thoughts to actually hear what she’s saying.

She’s so frustratingly beautiful it hurts. A dusting of freckles adorn her face and shoulders, and he wonders if they go down any lower. Her mouth stretches into a grin, and when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he wonders if he could get a taste too. She gestures animatedly as she talks with her hands, exposing her lean muscles and he wonders how it would be to wrap his arms around her.

Her hazel eyes sparkle expressively, nose scrunching as she continues on. He still hasn’t quite figured out what she’s talking about. Only that he’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and he risks burning up if he gets too close.

“ —just had to clean it up before I bring it in—”

And it hits him like a motherfucking train, that he’s standing there wearing his cotton pajama pants sans underwear and this would be the worst time for her to see him pop a boner.

“—installed it and I think it’s working!”

Oh. Rey’s done talking and is now waiting for him to respond. He tries to collect his thoughts quickly, because she can’t know that he spent the last minute trying to wrangle his heat-enhanced horny brain.

“Oh. I see.”

“Come on! A bit more enthusiasm would be great, Ben! I’ll show you!”

She grabs his hand, and before he’s able to squeak out any form of protest, she drags him to her room where it’s nice and cool and pleasant.

“You have an AC.” Ben says it matter-of-factly.

She smiles in amusement. “You haven’t been listening.”

“Sorry, the heat just does things to my brain.” _Yes, blame it on the heat._

“It’s the worst, isn’t it?” Rey throws herself on her bed, scooting herself back towards the wall. “You can hang out here. I can’t imagine how hot it is in your room.”

“Oh.”

Ben knows words. He gets paid to write words. He never has any problem voicing his words, especially to all the stupid people he has to work with. But it seems like his vocabulary is reduced to the bare minimum when it comes to Rey.

“Yeah, just bring your laptop over and you can work in my room.”

Vehemently, he shakes his head. Maybe it’s a bit too much, but he has to make sure that he stays away from her. For her own good. Because his self-control is slipping and being in an enclosed space with her is nothing but inviting trouble.

“No,” he bites out, before lowering his tone to a more polite one. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

He gives her a nod as he heads back to the fiery pit of hell that is his bedroom.

***

Ben’s in the middle of trying to assemble a makeshift AC (the one where you put a frozen bottle of water behind a fan, it hasn’t quite worked just yet) when a loud series of knocks rattle his door.

He opens the door to face a very angry-looking Rey, who just bursts into his room without invitation and says, “What the fuck is your problem with me, Ben?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I do something wrong to you? Are you mad that I ate your yogurt last week?”

“What? No!”

“Yeah, I figured I did you a favor by eating it because it tasted like shit anyway.” She paces around his room, and it’s taking a lot for him not to just pin her down so she stops moving—No. _No_.

“Are you mad that I’ve been using your Netflix account?”

It’s ridiculous that she thinks that bothers him. He doesn’t care. Not about that.

“Is it because I’m terrible at taking out the trash?”

“No—”

She cuts him off, “I know you weren’t all that happy when I moved in. And you agreed to let me stay because you pitied me. But I thought,” she purses her lips, “I thought we were making good progress—”

Pity? There was no pity. “Rey. It’s not you—”

“You know the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line is terribly cliché. Just tell me what the fuck I did to you to warrant you avoiding me like I’m the plague.”

“I’m not—”

“Stop lying. You _have_ been avoiding me. I know about your squirreling.”

“Squirreling?”

“Yeah, I know you’ve been keeping snacks and non-perishables in your bedroom so you don’t have to leave your room.”

She points to his stash of double-stuffed Oreos and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in the corner, right next to the flat of Gatorade.

“You know warm Gatorade tastes gross and is just a step above piss, right? And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you only come out if Finn or Poe are home. Or when I head to bed.”

“I’m just busy,” he lies. “I just needed to focus on my work.”

Her left eyebrow raises in disbelief and gestures around the room. “Here? In this bloody boiling room?”

Ben’s never been a good liar, something his parents had told him multiple times throughout his childhood, yet he persists.

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’, trying to sound as casual and breezy as he can be, even though everyone who knows him can attest that Ben Solo can never be casual nor breezy.

“What a bunch of horse-shit.”

“Believe whatever you want, Rey. Are you done?”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“So why have you been avoiding me?”

“I’m not.”

“Am I _that_ repulsive to you? Are you grossed out by me?”

Far from it. He’s definitely not grossed out by her. If anything, she might be grossed out to know just how desperately he wants to bend her over the couch or pin her up against the fridge and fuck the living daylights out of her.

“Rey, please leave.”

“You’d rather stay in this room than to hang out in mine?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, pushing her breasts together and Ben has to find a spot on the floor to look at to avoid staring.

“Why do you care?” he mumbles. “What is it to you?”

“What is it to _you_?”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are _you_ being so difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult.”

Her tone gets increasingly petulant, “I’m not being difficult, either.”

“Wow, okay, I’m not in the mood to play right now, Rey.” He lifts his chin towards the exit, “Please get the door on your way out.”

“No.”

“No? What are you going to do? Camp in here? Or drag me out?” He chuckles mirthlessly, “Yeah, right. You’re a tiny thing.”

Rey is nowhere near tiny. He knows that, she knows that. It’s just that unless they are over six feet, most people are tiny compared to Ben. And oh, how Ben _really_ wants to do things to her non-tiny tiny body.

She steps in closer, poking his chest with her pointer finger with more force than necessary. “Don’t—” _jab_ “fucking—” _jab_ “make—” _jab_ “me—”

“Stop. Jabbing. Me.” Ben takes a shaky inhale and grits his teeth.

“What—” _jab_ “are—” _jab_ “you—” _jab_ “gonna—” _jab_ “do—” _jab_ “about—” _jab_ “it—”

He doesn’t know if it’s the heat clouding his judgement or the fact that she’s huffing and puffing, nostrils flaring, and he can see the vein right on her forehead twitching and her nipples visibly pebbling through her thin shirt, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her close to his chest to seal her lips shut with a searing kiss.

A frantic kiss. A hungry kiss. A desperate kiss. Six-months of repressed attraction kiss.

Her pointed finger slowly turns into a fist that grips his shirt tightly. She breathes out his name, barely above a whisper. And it’s as if he’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water, reminded of his momentary lapse of judgement.

Rey looks at him with wide eyes and parted lip, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. She brings a hand to her mouth, fingers ghosting her lower lip, brows knitted together as if she’s trying to figure out a complex arithmetic equation.

Her gaze flicks down from Ben’s eyes to the painfully obvious tent forming through his thin pants. He wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

A series of expressions flash through her face. Agitation. Confusion. Surprise. Hopefully not disgust. And then she finally settles on what he figures is her moment of revelation when her eyes snap back to his and she concludes, “Not repulsive.”

He lets out a shuddering sigh, “Definitely not repulsive.”

“So is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

He tries to shift his posture to make his erection less obvious, because there’s nothing more awkward than to have a full conversation in this state. Not only that it’s awkward, it’s borderline impossible because all he can think of is—No. He’s not going to further fuel his boner.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

She steps in closer, she reaches out to tentatively place a finger against his forearm.

The air seems thicker than it already was, and he has difficulty focusing. It doesn’t make it any easier that Rey’s finger draws lazy eights on his skin.

He sucks in a lungful of air and blurts out quickly, “Ihaveacrushonyou.”

Her lower lip is caught between her pearly white teeth, eyes crinkling in amusement, as she holds back a growing smile. It’s enough fuel to keep him talking.

“I was worried that if I ever acted on this—God, the things I have thought about you—” he pauses and clarifies, “Not that I was going to harass you or anything! But I swear sometimes I get some vibes from you—”

“Oh, I was definitely sending vibes. For sure.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “For a bit there I thought you were gay, too. But then no gay man would stare at me the way you do.”

He winces, “Was I _that_ obvious?”

“Well, I think you tried. Real hard. So you get an A for effort.”

“I just didn’t want to mess this up. The apartment—”

Rey takes yet another step, now close enough for Ben to count the freckles in her face and notice that she has flecks of green in her irises that are starting to get swallowed by the black of her pupils. “I like this apartment too much for you to ruin it for me. If anything, us getting to have... _this_...is an added bonus, don’t you think?”

Ben doesn’t get to respond before she’s up on her tippy-toes, arms looped around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

***

They’re standing in the middle of her room, Rey completely undressed while Ben’s just staring at her with his mouth wide open, only managing to have taken his shirt off before getting sucker-punched at the sight of her naked body.

The blast of cool air made her nipples pebble and her skin prickle with goosebumps, and Ben has never felt more overheated than he does right this very moment. Which leads him to say silly things out loud, like, “ _Mother freckles_.”

She huffs out a laugh and then squirms, perhaps uncomfortable by the weight of his gaze on her. “So, this is me.”

It’s rare to see her this way. Vulnerable. Shy.

“It’s not much, I know. My boobs—”

She flails her arms around, settling to hug her own torso. “Wish they weren’t this small. And my hips—”

He pulls her closer with one hand, the other cupping her jaw, “You’re everything I ever wanted. And more. You’re—” The moment those words escape his lips, he regrets it. Not because it’s not true, but because she doesn’t need to know just how intense he is. Just how _strongly_ he feels for her. But he can’t let her think that she is anything but, so he finishes, “Perfect.”

The smile that bloomed on her face is enough to constrict all the air flow to his lungs. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, meet his, as her finger trails down his bare stomach and into the bulge on his pants, “I believe you’re a tad overdressed.”

***

Rey offers to go down on him, but he’s barely holding on as it is. _Later, then,_ she says casually, as if those words won’t send his heart to beat faster against his ribcage at the thought of _later_ and _more_.

And then she jumps on him, her legs wrapping around his waist as she peppers him with more open-mouthed kisses, breathing in the words right into his ears, “Fuck me.”

Ben flips them around and has her up against her door frame. His arms firmly supporting her thighs. Her nails dig into his shoulders, scrambling for purchase. Her breath comes out in short huffs as he works to push himself inside, inch by inch.

She’s tight, even after the two orgasms he coaxed out of her, first with his fingers and then with his tongue.

“Fuck, you are—”

“Ben, I—”

“Tight—”

“So full—”

Her fingers find their way to his head, and he feels them wind tightly around his locks. Tight enough that Ben worries that she’s about to rip his hair off, but he finds it impossible to complain. Not when her cunt is gripping his cock like a vice and he’s buried to the hilt.

“Ben—Stretch me wide open—”

Rey gyrates her hips, movement small but powerful enough to make Ben’s vision blur around the edges.

He starts to pump into her, gripping her ass even tighter as he drives into her with determination and a punishing pace. The sound of flesh slapping echoes loudly around the room, accompanied by breathless moans and a litany of curses. It’s downright intoxicating.

Snaking one hand in between their bodies, Ben rubs circles around her clit as his thrusts push her up higher against the door.

Rey’s nipples brush against his chest, sending a tingling sensation down his spine, and it won’t be long until he breaks, but he hopes not until she gets there first.

Sure enough, he feels what’s the beginning of her orgasm taking place. Her hold on his hair tightens as her walls flutter around his cock. He pumps into her mercilessly as she convulses through her climax, her legs jerking against his back and her head slumps on his shoulder.

Ben knows it’s just a matter of seconds—ten, maybe —until he finishes. He’s recited all the US state capitals he knows to prolong it and he doesn’t remember enough about Canadian geography to start there. He attempts to pull away, but Rey wraps her legs tighter around him, keeping him in place with the heels of her feet.

“Inside—Come inside—Please—”

Apparently he doesn’t need ten seconds because that was all it takes for him to shamelessly pour himself into her.

***

Ben Solo is a man of few regrets.

He doesn’t regret the soreness in his arms. Nor the crick on his neck. Nor the bruises on his knees from bumping against the door. Nor the half-moon indentations on his shoulders and scratch marks on his back. Nor the hair that she yanked out of his head.

He doesn’t regret laying on the hard floor. Not when he’s lying there with her draped on his chest, both equally sated and spent. Not when she giggles happily against his cheeks when they share a bottle of warm Gatorade.

As of this exact moment? He regrets absolutely nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Rey has an IUD and they're both ~good to go~ :)


End file.
